![]() "You gotta sell ideas in America the same way you sell anything else," says Hinckle, tireless drummer of the old New Left, carrying a hint of Willy Loman but still riding on a style and a shoeshine into the uncertain murk of the '80s. His clipboard is clamped in pudgy hands, full of causes fought and faiths to keep. ![]() But, of course, that's just the point, considering the fat, fierce brio of the man - the eye patch strung around a face like damp calf's liver, the brown pin-stripe suit with the plaid shirt and unmatching plaid tie, the patterns clashing like a scratch at your retina. Not your preferred footwear for 15th Street in broad daylight. Warren Hinckle, in urgent pursuit of vodka, trots briskly through the afternoon traffic.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |